Expendable
Mar. 22nd, 2017 06:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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saladloveI'm doing a writing class now and coming up little one shot things that aren't tied to existing fandoms or anything like that. So I'll likely be posting little odd things like this. Hopefully you all enjoy them.
What did I do wrong? Was the last batch of espresso I made, not right? The lady seemed to be enjoying it as she sipped away at it yesterday.
Why then this betrayal? Why had this new machine that resembled a robotic chicken been placed on the opposite kitchen counter from where I lived when I wasn’t in use?
The usurper’s rounded curves certainly helped make it look more modern and sleek than my angled exterior. No marks or scuffs on its outward surface, I know I have a few dents and scratches on my body, but that came with years of service and the few times I’d accidentally been knocked off the counter or hob.
Had my Bakelite handle come loose? Had I spot of corrosion somewhere that I wasn’t aware of?
I watched as the lady made her morning espresso with the intruder, filling up its water tank and pulling out it’s little beak like protuberance and popping in a little capsule, no loose coffee grounds in a little interior basket for the newcomer.
Dolce Gusto had been emblazoned across it’s box when it had been unpacked, I’d been replaced by a newer, sleeker Italian model; my classic Bialetti self was obviously expendable.
What would happen to me? Would I end up what they called ‘recycled’? Or would I end up thrown away with the things that had been broken?
The lady sipped on her cup of espresso as she walked away from the counter. As she was about to leave the kitchen, the phone rang.
“Hello?” she said as she answered it. “Oh, hello dear…Yes your gift arrived yesterday, set it up last night…Yes I actually just used it, I’m not sure that it’s quite the same though…Throw away my old one? Whatever for? ...Dear it’s made perfectly good espresso for the last 30 years…Of course I appreciate the gift, I’m just used to my little Moka that’s all. I’ll use the new one for guests and when you come to visit…Ok, talk to you later dear, give the little ones a hug from Nana…Love you too dear, bye.”
The following morning, I made the morning espresso, feeling happier than ever that I wasn’t as expendable as I had worried about.
As time went on the new espresso maker sat on the counter with its box of capsules next to it gathering dust, it got used on the odd occasion like the lady had said, but I was the constant morning routine and most certainly not replaceable.
What did I do wrong? Was the last batch of espresso I made, not right? The lady seemed to be enjoying it as she sipped away at it yesterday.
Why then this betrayal? Why had this new machine that resembled a robotic chicken been placed on the opposite kitchen counter from where I lived when I wasn’t in use?
The usurper’s rounded curves certainly helped make it look more modern and sleek than my angled exterior. No marks or scuffs on its outward surface, I know I have a few dents and scratches on my body, but that came with years of service and the few times I’d accidentally been knocked off the counter or hob.
Had my Bakelite handle come loose? Had I spot of corrosion somewhere that I wasn’t aware of?
I watched as the lady made her morning espresso with the intruder, filling up its water tank and pulling out it’s little beak like protuberance and popping in a little capsule, no loose coffee grounds in a little interior basket for the newcomer.
Dolce Gusto had been emblazoned across it’s box when it had been unpacked, I’d been replaced by a newer, sleeker Italian model; my classic Bialetti self was obviously expendable.
What would happen to me? Would I end up what they called ‘recycled’? Or would I end up thrown away with the things that had been broken?
The lady sipped on her cup of espresso as she walked away from the counter. As she was about to leave the kitchen, the phone rang.
“Hello?” she said as she answered it. “Oh, hello dear…Yes your gift arrived yesterday, set it up last night…Yes I actually just used it, I’m not sure that it’s quite the same though…Throw away my old one? Whatever for? ...Dear it’s made perfectly good espresso for the last 30 years…Of course I appreciate the gift, I’m just used to my little Moka that’s all. I’ll use the new one for guests and when you come to visit…Ok, talk to you later dear, give the little ones a hug from Nana…Love you too dear, bye.”
The following morning, I made the morning espresso, feeling happier than ever that I wasn’t as expendable as I had worried about.
As time went on the new espresso maker sat on the counter with its box of capsules next to it gathering dust, it got used on the odd occasion like the lady had said, but I was the constant morning routine and most certainly not replaceable.
